


Francis.

by Gorned



Series: Our History (Too Much Adamantium) [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Wolverine (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2274570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gorned/pseuds/Gorned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something like the beginning to an origin story. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Francis.

A couple months after Wade loses what he thinks is the love of his life, he makes a few decisions that he will later regard as “The Worst He’s Ever Made.” Falling in with the wrong kind of mercenaries, taking missions that are way out of his league for money that he so desperately needs so he can feed himself and pay for guns and ammo.

He’s slouching in a booth with a few of what he thinks are his buddies when he hears tale of Ajax. Not the All-Purpose Cleanser, but a person. A bad person, allegedly.

"Guy’s nutso."

"Heard he’s working with Killebrew."

"Killebrew? Fuck that. Not touching that one with a ten-foot pole."

Wade looks up and wets his lips. If nobody’s touching the job, it must mean loads of cash. Wade needs cash. He’s considered something like a crazy killing prodigy in the underground circles. He’s fast, ruthless and it’s rumored that he doesn’t have a soul. He could take on another “crazy” guy, easy. Wade’s smart and innovative when it comes to taking life; a fact he’s not sure he should be proud of at sixteen.

Cocksure, he signs up with the appropriate people. He’s got the Ajax/Killebrew job with a third of the payout already in his account. He figures it’s because the dudes have faith in him. He doesn’t realize that it’s pity money. Funeral money.

—-

It’s been weeks and nobody’s seen hide nor tail of Wade Wilson. Nobody goes looking for him, nobody mourns that he’s gone. Most are actually relieved; they don’t have to listen to him babble on about classic movies and how hot Angela Lansbury is.

"Angela Lansbury is a total fox." Wade says. Blood burbles out of his mouth and down his chin, throat. He smiles through two black (purple, blue, yellow, red, green) eyes. His entire body hurts and he thinks he’s starting to hear the echo of voices that definitely aren’t his in his mind, just in the back past the files of knowledge he’s compiled about Ricky Ricardo.

"Nobody asked you about Angela Lansbury!" 

Big teeth are all Wade can see through his nearly puffed-closed eyes. Shiny rows of too-many teeth and metal. The smirking smugness of a voice he’s come to loathe. The whirr of machines, lack of movement. What he wouldn’t give for a gun to shoot himself in the head with.

"Don’t you agree through, Francis? She’s a babe, right? Or are you more into, say… Cary Grant? Swing that way, Francis? I don’t think he’d like you. You have too many teeth. I’ll knock a few out for you if you let me up. It’s my birthday."

Ajax’s grin turns into more of a look that says he’s at the end of his rope but he’s smiling through the pain. He doesn’t know how Wilson learned of his given name but he does know that he’s tired of hearing it. Ever since Wade fell into the compound, it’s been Francis-this and Francis-that. He knows that it was Wilson’s way of trying to distract him from torturing other prisoners. He’s more than happy to make a main target out of him in retaliation. He didn’t know at the time that Wilson would be so hard to break. He’s halfway there, but it’s just not enough.

"Since it’s your birthday, Wilson, I might as well tell you — "

"— That you got me a Barbie’s Malibu Dream-House? — "

" — I invented a machine just for you. I’m going to call it the Punch Bowl."

Cold fingers, too-tight leather straps. Wade’s behind plexiglass and suddenly he can’t breathe. He sees Ajax’s face beyond the curved clear, distorted and grinning. He feels like he’s in a fish bowl.

[Punch bowl?]

Wade struggles within his bonds, bare feet kicking out at the hard glass/plastic. Every contact sends a jot of pain up his entire leg but it doesn’t stop him. He can’t breathe, can’t talk, can’t think. Can’t can’t can’t can’t. He twists and gasps and he’s dizzy, so dizzy. His chest is strapped down so tightly that it can’t expand to accommodate the very little oxygen that he can take in. In the very small and calm, rational back of his mind, he wonders if this is what it’s like to be in space without all the astronaut gear.

Wade’s struggles slowly start to cease and his head lolls back, feeling too heavy for his neck. His mouth open-closes with every rattling non-breath he tries to steal.

"I knew this would shut you up! I knew it!"

Wade can’t see. Ajax’s crowing voice sounds like it’s coming through thick cotton. He tries to kick out again but he doesn’t even have the energy to lift his leg anymore. It ends up being more of a pathetic spasm. He wants to breathe, he can’t breathe… His lungs and throat burn. He blinks sightlessly and loses track of time. All he can hear is Ajax’s muted laughter. He wants out.

—-

“Wwwd Wllsson?”

Wade opens his eyes. Bleary. At first he thinks Colonel Sanders is hovering over him, backlit by the most glorious light. He blinks rapidly and the white-suit wearing vision wavers into an army man wearing a lot of medals and tabs. American ones. Fancy.

"Wade Wilson?" The man tries again. Wade lets his head drop forward in response. He can’t do more than gasp right now, greedily trying to suck in air. He’s still strapped into the Punch Bowl and the straps over his chest are digging, hurting him. He can’t feel his arms. More people are hovering over him now and why won’t they let him out? They look like doctors in his fuzzed-up vision. Why won’t they let him out?

The army man talks talks talks and Wade doesn’t care enough to listen. His entire body hurts and he hasn’t eaten in weeks and he just wants freedom. He breathes shallowly and lets his eyes close.

"What do you say, son? We’ve been looking for you a long time and I’d hate to let you go without showing what I have to offer."

Wade swallows around dried blood and tries to grin. “Don’t know w-what you just said to m-me. But anything is buh-better than this. I’ll t-take what’s behind door number two.”

The man smiles and Wade’s reminded of Francis and the way he’d looked when Killebrew had given him free reign to torture. The doctors start to undo the straps and gingerly pull Wade out of the Punch Bowl, transferring him to a gurney. He hears something about tests, trials, diet, training, conditioning. Over all, he hears who he will come to know as his Colonel.

"Welcome to the team."


End file.
